Cleaning

It was 930am, and the kids had already had breakfast, and they were dressed and ready for the day. The kitchen was cleaned up.

S was swiffering the floor with that spray cleaner kind of thing. I was happily basking in the feeling of calm that occurs when everything is going as expected.

I hear, in my ear, but not yet necesarily in my brain, (you tend to tune out three preschool-aged kids at certain times of the day), a conversation that just doesn't seem to make sense. I thought I heard the words, "juice" and "good", and yet, I'm quite certain we have no such juice in the house.

I turn from the sink to witness S happily spraying "juice" into the boys' cups. One is taking a "sip"; one is saying, "Thanks, S. Mmmmm!"
"STOP!", I yell, "That is NOT juice. That is floor cleaner!*"
And although they tell me it was good, I just don't really believe them.